‘She left him,’ she had snarled, as if Áróra bore some responsibility for her sister’s treachery. ‘It was only to be expected that she’d want to go back to England, but leaving him like that without a single word is just too much. Poor Björn has been a wreck ever since.’

Áróra finished her coffee but pushed the cognac away. ‘Sorry. That’s not exactly a pleasant subject,’ she said apologetically, and Hákon laid his hand on hers.

‘True,’ he said. ‘Of course it’s sad not to have a good relationship with your family, but I like listening to you tell the story. I like your accent when you speak.’

‘Stop it,’ she laughed, slapped his shoulder and somehow they were kissing over the table, which ended with him quickly 30calling for the bill before they hurried hand-in-hand across to the hotel.

It was around three in the morning when Áróra woke suddenly, as Hákon slipped from the bed and went to the bathroom. It was as bright as day in the room, and there was a loud dawn chorus outside, so it could just as well have been morning.

‘Could you bring me some water?’ she called, and heard Hákon turn on the tap; a moment later he appeared with a glass of water for her.

‘Would you like something else?’ he asked. ‘I can get whatever you want from room service. Anything you like. They can fix anything.’

‘You’re a gentleman,’ she said, and ran her fingers down his back as he sat on the bed. ‘So how do you know they can fix anything you want? Do you stay here often?’

‘Well, I pretty much live here. I split up with my wife a couple of years ago … y’see…’

He didn’t finish his sentence, and there was an awkward look on his face. Áróra looked around the room. There was a lot more stuff that was usual in a hotel room. There was a stack of books, a wardrobe full of clothes and all sorts on the desk. This was more stuff than would fit in two suitcases.

‘Was it a tough divorce?’

He laughed awkwardly and shook his head.

‘No, not at all. Or, yes. But that’s not it. I live here, because it’s my hotel.’

‘It’s yours? Your hotel?’